After their purchases were wrapped and paid for, they headed for the escalator. They got as far as the lingerie department. Gina stopped and stared at the red and black silk G-strings on display.
Fear gripped the back of Mike’s neck. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”
Her eyes widened. “Central Park closes?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Gina sidled up and took him by the arm. “Can we not stay for ten more minutes?”
He darted a look at the mannequin wearing the G-string and tried not to think about the way Gina rubbed the inside of his arm.
“Per piacere.” She made her lips look pouty. “I mean, please.”
“Just ten minutes.”
“I promise.” She smiled and then kissed his cheek.
An innocent touch that threatened a major hard-on. Oh, man, he was in bad shape. No way was he going to stand around and watch her select underwear. “I’ll wait for you on the first floor.”
Her expression fell. “Why?”
“Because I have something to do down there.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew some money. “Here.”
“Grazie, but I have my own money.” She lifted her chin and headed in the direction of the G-strings.
What had he done wrong? “Ten minutes,” he called. “At the bottom of the escalator.”
She waved without turning around, which was good enough for him. Let her get her G-string or whatever. He didn’t have to know what she wore under her clothes. And he didn’t have to subject himself to watching her select it.
He used the time to go to the washroom and splash his face with cold water. On the way back to the escalator, he stopped at the men’s cosmetic counter and squirted himself with one of the testers. The stuff smelled nasty, and he let out a rude grunt that netted him several stares. No wonder he never wore any of that junk.
With a minute to spare he arrived at the escalator. No sign of Gina yet. Not that he expected her to be early. She’d been like a kid in a candy store all morning, excited by simply trying on sunglasses. She’d explained that her mother didn’t allow unchaperoned shopping, which basically meant it wasn’t worth going.
Such strict rules and morals were hard to understand. Particularly since Gina seemed to be a good girl, genuinely concerned about what her parents and uncle thought. Even the way she’d wanted to dress had more to do with normal and healthy rebellion than attracting male attention.
That was the thing that floored Mike the most. She didn’t even get how hot she was, or that men tripped over themselves watching her walk across the street. She was more interested in gawking at shop windows and staring at young women with blue hair and navel rings.
He checked his watch. Eighteen minutes. No sign of her coming down the escalator. He’d give her another two and then drag her out of the store.
After another five minutes, he took the escalator steps two at a time up to the lingerie department. He didn’t see her, and flagged a saleswoman.
“I’m looking for my friend,” he said. “Petite, dark hair, pretty—”
She smiled. “Italian accent?”
“That’s her.” The relief he felt was ridiculous. She was probably still in a fitting room.
“Yes, she went that way.” The woman pointed in the opposite direction of the escalator. “With two other gentlemen.”
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